


ringtone

by jordanhennessy



Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordanhennessy/pseuds/jordanhennessy
Summary: Ronan calls outside of business hours, Declan has an anxiety disorder
Relationships: Declan Lynch & Ronan Lynch
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	ringtone

Declan had trouble sleeping. Unlike his brother, he could not pull his nightmares into real life, but he could run through the contents of the day, over and over, until they were threadbare, and he could make plan after plan for an emergency exit from their lives, and imagine, over and over, everything that could possibly go wrong. He didn’t like to call it an anxiety _disorder_ , because it was a perfectly reasonable response to his life, but that’s what his doctor had called it so that he could get the proper sleeping medication. Medication he was too anxious to take.

He was awake when Ronan called, and answered the call before his brain had time to process the name on the screen.

"What's wrong?" His voice came out annoyed instead of like his heart was lodged in his throat.

"Whatever happened to hello?" Ronan sounded annoyed too, which wasn't much of a relief, because he'd probably sound annoyed on his deathbed.

"Hellos don't seem appropriate at-" Declan pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time- "two am."

"Can't I just call because I want to talk to my brother?"

"Not at two am."

"Fine, I'll hang up then." He didn't hang up. Ronan's voice had snagged on the sentence in a way that Declan didn't like. He also stayed on the line. When it became clear that Ronan wasn't going to say anything, Declan heaved himself up from his bed and started walking to the kitchen.

"Matthew's fall break is almost here. He's worked himself into a frenzy about grades, he's got C's in almost everything."

“C’s aren’t bad.”

“Of course _you’d_ think that.” Declan couldn’t help himself sometimes. He heard Ronan exhale on the other side of the connection slowly, as Declan poured himself a glass of water.

“Matthew doesn’t care about grades.” This had a note of argument to it, but it was true.

“I told him he needs to get them up. One or two C’s is fine, but he’s missing a lot of work.”

“Hmm.” The silence is uncomfortable, colored by hundreds of fights. Everything that there was to say on the topic of school and grades in their family had already been said, and shouted. Declan broke first, again.

“Are you still planning on coming up this weekend?”

“Yeah. I’ve got pumpkins I was planning on bringing.” Declan is uncomfortably reminded of their father for a moment, how he would roll into town with gifts and then vanish again. It wasn’t fair to think that about Ronan, but he did anyway.

“Just one or two, I don’t want them lying around rotting because we couldn’t use them fast enough.” Ronan huffed, annoyed.

“Yeah, I won’t burden you with the hard-earned fruits of my labor.” They were the right words, but they didn’t have the bite they should’ve. His tone was off. Declan wouldn’t even let himself think it, but his heartbeat started to pick up again. He set his glass down and moved quickly, quietly towards the stairs.

“I know you think that I’m just out to get you all the time, but you don’t have to turn everything into a fight.”

"You don't know shit about how I think."

"I guess I don't, because I can’t fathom why someone would spend so much time being so contrary. I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around it.”

“Talking like a fucking thesaurus doesn’t make you right, Byron.”

“I’m surprised you even know who that is, given that you never went to class.” Declan reached Matthew’s bedroom and gently pushed the door open. He was sprawled across his bed, sheets tangled around his legs, arm flung across his eyes, snoring loudly and breathing normally. Breathing exactly as quickly as he should be. Declan shut the door and slumped against the doorframe. He was so tired.

“Do you write it in your planner that you need to make an asshole comment about me dropping out? Pencil it in between ‘do the dry cleaning’ and ‘blow a senator’?”

“I use an online planner, actually.” Ronan let out a begrudging bark of laughter. They were silent on the line for a while. Declan listened to Ronan’s breaths intently. They didn’t sound labored or pained at all. _They wouldn’t be, if he used pills this time_ , his brain hissed. Declan took a moment to collect himself, make sure the words would come out the way they needed to.

“Ronan, why are you really calling?” Worry had seeped into his voice, and the words sounded dangerously honest, but that’s what it would take to get Ronan to answer them. Declan heard Ronan do his smoker exhale, air hissing out through his teeth.

“Needed to hear another person’s voice, I guess.” He still managed to make it sound shitty, which meant he still had a beating heart.

"Why didn't you call Adam?"

"I didn't want to wake him up."

"But it's okay to wake me up?"

"You weren't asleep anyway." Declan couldn’t argue with that. He was sleepless so often that his body was used to it. He felt worse after a full night’s sleep than he did after a few snatched hours-- he needed it, the ache in his body, to feel like he was surviving. He was surprised though, that Ronan knew that about him. It had been years since they’d properly lived together.

“Matthew needs to stop telling you about my sleep schedule.” He allowed himself to slide down to the floor.

“Your eye bags speak for themselves, man.” A beat. “I’m thinking about moving to Cambridge.”

“Jesus, Ronan.”

“Fuck off.” He hung up. Declan called him back. Ronan let it go to voicemail. Declan called again. He picked up.

“Tell me how would it work.”

“I get an apartment, I stay there part time. I go back to the Barns to dream. I stop by your place in between.” _He’s thought about this a lot._

“Would you be able to keep your dreaming under control?”

“I’ve been able to stay at your place just fine.”

“And the nightwash?”

“I can go a couple days before it happens. I’d probably only be in Cambridge for the weekends.” Declan was quiet. Matthew, with black ooze pouring out of his eyes, played over and over in his head. Ronan, looking small and pale in a hospital bed with bandages up to his elbows, played right next to it. “Declan.” He sounded desperate.

“Okay,” said Declan hoarsely.

“Okay?”

“I’ll start looking for listings.” Ronan didn’t say thank you, but Declan didn’t expect him to. “I need to be up in four hours.”

“I’ll see you this Sunday.” Ronan hung up then, and Declan pressed his phone to his forehead. _Fuck you, Dad_. Declan heaved himself up, knees popping loudly, and looked in at Matthew one more time, just to make sure. Then he flung himself into his bed, and when he slept, he didn’t dream at all.


End file.
